


whoever got you got gold

by heybernia



Series: oh i'll love you tomorrow so don't go away [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, like literally half and half, lots of talk about birthdays and presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heybernia/pseuds/heybernia
Summary: “Happy birthday, Jér,” Phil says. He has the sudden urge to lean over and give Jér a hug but he just hands him the bag instead.(Or, five birthdays Phil and Jér spend together.)





	whoever got you got gold

**Author's Note:**

> the only thing to warn for i think is that there's one mention of blood but if there's anything else, please feel free to tell me.
> 
> the title is from the tom rosenthal song got gold.
> 
> thanks to aimee and bee for their enthusiasm when they read parts of this i appreciate it a lot <3

_ 01-25-16 _

“Hey you,” Jér says smiling, looking up at Phil from where he’s taping up his socks in his stall. He shifts over, brings his legs in so Phil can get into his stall on the other side of the corner easier. The locker room is about half-full, the rest of their teammates still trickling in all covered with a light dusting of snow. “Happy birthday, Phil.”

“Thanks Lauz,” Phil says, trying to not get caught on how Jér's lashes are flicking up at the ends or how fantastic his cheekbones look in the light and failing. It takes him a few moments to realise he forgot to say a greeting back so he mumbles a quick hey, trying not to cringe at his own awkwardness.

Jér keeps on smiling at him though like he finds Phil endearing, and this is not his standard smirk. This is Phil being exposed to something that’s closer to the full Jérémy Lauzon smile. Both corners of his mouth have lifted up, the small gap between his front teeth is clear to see and his eyes are crinkling at the corners.

Phil always ends up being reminded just how much he likes Jér by one thing or another, how he likes Jér as something more than teammates and more than friends and has for a while.

“You looking forward to getting legally drunk the next time you go back to Moncton?” Jér asks, turning his attention back to his socks and letting Phil breath easily again.

“I guess,” Phil says, starting to work on getting his layers off.

“Or are you still fucked out from your birthday party at the weekend?” Jér asks, the smirk clear in his voice.

Phil scrunches up his nose. “It wasn’t a birthday party, it was a party that just happened to be near my birthday,” he says.

“Hey, there was a cake with candles,” Jér says. “And I gave you your present at said party so that means it was a birthday party.”

Phil feels his cheeks start to heat up at being of reminded of Jér giving him his present. It wasn’t anything too special, just an assorted mix of Phil’s favourite candy, but it came with a long, lingering hug from Jér that probably had a lot to do with the alcohol Jér had already downed, but it still made Phil feel a wave of warmth spread to his fingertips as Jér dug his chin into Phil’s shoulder and leaned his weight onto Phil.

A sharp whistle breaks Phil out of the memory and makes him jump. He turns to see Perry standing on the other side of the logo fully dressed in his gear, helmet unclipped.

“Phil! First off, happy birthday,” Perry says, loud and sincere. “Congratulations on turning nineteen and being able to buy alcohol in the Maritimes and all of that fun shit but if you don’t get a fucking move on, you’re gonna be late onto the ice and coach is gonna make sure your happy birthday ends quick. Same to you, Lauz.”

“But it’s not my birthday yet,” Jér calls out to Perry’s back who just flips him off as he walks out the door, saying something about how Jér won’t be around to see his next one. Jér turns to Phil then and shrugs a little. “We should probably listen to him.”

“Yeah, we should-- for once,” Phil says, unable to hold back a smile. Jér bumps Phil’s foot with his skate, and Phil returns the favour, focusing on Jér's tiny giggle and not how his heart skips a beat in between his ribs.

 

_ 04-28-16 _

It only occurs to Phil as he’s turning around the last corner before Jér's house that he probably should have told Jér he was coming to see him. That or he should have been brought someone else with him, or he should have waited until tomorrow to give Jér's present to him when he came to watch the game.

Phil probably should have thought about this past wanting to wish Jér happy birthday in person. It’s too late to go back now though, he’s parked outside Jér's childhood home catching glimpses of the sun reflecting off the lake through the tree branches, a postcard worthy view.

Phil stops tapping the steering wheel and reaches over to pick up the bag on the passenger’s seat. He pulls himself out of the car, making sure to be careful with the bag, and is walking up to Jér's front door, up the stone slab path, and ringing the doorbell before he has anymore second thoughts. 

He fiddles with his snapback while he waits, moves it around until it’s pretty much back where he had in the first place. 

Phil has been here a couple of times before when they’ve played Val-d’Or. He’s been introduced to Jér's parents and his younger siblings who aren’t called Zach and invited for dinner but he still double checked with said younger sibling called Zach that he did have the right address. Getting lost in rival territory was not something Phil would like to try.

Zach gave him a funny look when he asked, like he found something funny and was trying not to laugh. He did still tell Phil that, yes, he had the right address, though he had that expression on his face the whole time.

Maybe Zach has figured out that Phil has this enormous, as obvious as Jér cheating at cards crush on his brother which Phil, to be honest, would be more surprised it’s taken someone this long to figure it out, but he doesn’t get much further with that line of thought before there’s the sharp click of the lock and the twist of the door handle.

“Oh, hey Phil,” Jér says immediately, as if he was expecting Phil though the hole near one of his sleeves proves that not, pulling the door open as far as it can go. 

“Hey,” Phil says, trying to look Jér in the eye and not at his neck brace. Seeing it still makes Phil’s throat close up. It takes him straight back to watching helpless from the bench as Jér was skated off, the towel against his neck stained red with blood and the sleepless night that followed.

“You can come in you know,” Jér says after a long moment, a teasing grin on his lips. “I think you’re the past the stage of needing to be formally invited.”

Phil tries to will his blush away as he goes in and takes his shoes off at the door, placing them beside where the rest of the shoes are stacked up. Jér obviously didn’t mean that in the way Phil’s hopeless heart wished he did. 

“You didn’t say you were coming,” Jér notes as they're walking through to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?”

“Can I just have a glass of water, please? I can pour it, it’s okay. How is your neck feeling?” Phil says, placing the bag on the breakfast bar and taking a seat on the stool. He has to face outwards otherwise his knees are going to bang off the underside of the table. “And yeah, I didn’t. I wanted it to be-- a surprise, I guess.” Which-- okay Phil, where the hell did that come from.

Jér has his back turned to him as he looks through a cupboard but Phil can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “It’s good enough that I can pour glasses of water, Phil,” Jér says with no room for argument. He doesn’t say anything else as he uses the water dispenser in the fridge and Phil plays with the edge of the table and tries not to think about how he might have fucked up already. 

Jér comes over with the slender glasses and places one in front of Phil. Phil thanks him before he takes a drink, the water cool and refreshing as it goes down his throat. 

Jér takes the stool next to him and turns it around so he’s facing Phil. “It’s a good surprise,” Jér says and it takes Phil a moment to get what he’s talking about. He swallows down the mouthful of water without any trouble, an impressive feat considering whatever the fuck it is his insides are currently doing.

“Does that mean you don’t want your present now?” Phil asks a beat too late, licking the last few drops off his lips and trying to play it cool. 

Jér smirks. “Well, you did go to the effort to drive here and deliver it in person the day after you were just in Moncton kicking your local team’s ass so I might as well see what it is. Can’t let that hard work and effort go to waste.”

Phil bites his lip trying to hold back his smile. He grabs the bag and slides it over.

“Happy birthday, Jér,” Phil says. He has the sudden urge to lean over and give Jér a hug but he just hands him the bag instead. 

It doesn’t take Jér long to take it out and tear off the awful job Phil did of wrapping it. However, very unlike Jér, he doesn’t make any sort of jokes about what it could be, the shape of it makes it stupidly obvious, and he doesn’t say anything once he has it all unwrapped, he just holds it in his hands and looks it over.

“You know, you’ve just been talking a lot about the Red Sox since you were, like, drafted and you talking about them these past couple of weeks reminded me that you’re-- you know, embracing being a Boston sports fan now I guess so I thought you’d like a snapback to show that off,” Phil mumbles, anything to fill the silence.

“I can get you something else if you want,” Phil offers when Jér still hasn’t said anything or looked at Phil.

Jér shakes his head a little. “No, I really do like it. Thank you Phil,” Jér says quietly, tracing around the bold red B.

“Was there something else you wanted?” Phil asks, more curious than anything else.

Jér glances up then and manages to look almost shy. He’s still tracing around the B, his eyes flickering from the window and back to Phil again.

And then he keeps his gaze focused on Phil and lifts his teeth up from where they’re digging into his bottom lip long enough to say, “You to ask me out on a date.”

It hangs there in the air, floating down gently as Phil replays it in his head. He has to be about to wake up from this dream. He has to, but he can definitely feel his nails dig into his palm.

“Was that a joke?” Phil asks, cautious, resisting every urge he has just to jump in headfirst.

“It was a joke if you want it to be,” Jér says. He hasn’t looked away from Phil’s eyes yet.

Phil nods. “Okay. I don’t want it to be a joke,” he says, trying to sound as sure as he feels. “I really don’t want it to be a joke.” 

Jér's whole face is overtaken by a smile and it’s like the spring sun is in the kitchen, like all the flowers have suddenly bloomed and Phil can’t look away, he doesn’t want to look away.

“That’s great,” Jér gets out past his smile. “Because It wasn’t a joke.”

Phil is still wondering if this is some kind of hyper realistic dream and if he’s gonna wake up in the real world where Jér doesn’t like Phil this way any minute now, but even if he does, he’s not going to miss this chance. 

“So, if I say I’d love to take you out on a date sometime, you’d give me a serious answer then,” Phil says, trying to keep his heart securely inside his chest.

Jér's eyes are all crinkly at the corners and Phil is too distracted by them to realise that Jér is reaching over until his hand is wrapped around Phil’s. 

Jér says, “I would give you a serious answer. I’d say something like I’d love for you to take me out on a date. I’d probably throw out the possibility of holding hands as well, and maybe kiss a little too.”

Phil can’t believe his face is still in one piece. His smile surely should have cut it in half by now. 

“That sounds good to me,” Phil says and gives Jér's hand a solid squeeze.

 

_ 01-25-17 _

“Phil,” Jér says, drawing it out to accompany the hand running through Phil’s curls. “Phil, are you gonna fall asleep on me? Like literally on me.”

Phil might have been. He might still be about to because Jér's thigh is really comfy and he and the blanket Phil is under are making him feel that kind of unmatchable cozy that flows from the inside out, and the steady, slow movements of the hand in his hair are making him feel as relaxed as he’s been since New Year’s Eve, since the hit from Kunin left him curling up in the dark, curtains drawn shut to keep out the fireworks and the light.

Now Phil’s curled up on his own bed with his head in Jér's lap who’s sitting up against the wall as the TV plays quietly, Michael Scott talking to the camera about how football is like rock and roll, the wind whistling outside his window. There’s nowhere else Phil would rather be today. 

“Phil,” Jér says again and Phil hadn’t noticed his eyes had fallen shut until he has to open them up again. 

“It’s my birthday,” Phil murmurs into the soft material of Jér's sweats. “I can fall nap if I want.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Jér says, light and affectionate. “Falling asleep watching an episode of The Office just isn’t what most people would want to do on their birthday. You seem to be enjoying yourself though and that’s the most important thing.”

Phil sighs in an attempt to get his lungs to reset. He needs all of the air he can get to say what he’s about to. “I’m enjoying it because you’re here. That’s the most important thing.”

Jér's hand in his hair stills for a moment, frozen, still holding the ends before letting them slip through, and then Jer places his hand on Phil’s shoulder, pulling at it to shift Phil onto his back. Phil can feel the flush that’s spread across his face and seeing the red of Jér's nose and his cheeks make his face burn even more. 

“You’re such a fucking sap,” Jér tells him, smiling like he can’t help it. “I missed you so much.” He kisses the tips of his first two fingers and presses them against Phil’s lips, pulls his bottom lip down.

There were peeks of this before they started dating, of the endless warmth Jér has hidden beneath the smirks and the blue line hits. They’ve been dating for over half a year now and Phil isn’t closer to having an idea about how far deep it goes. 

Jér hasn’t been stingy with his affection, not it at all, Phil sometimes feels like he’s drowning in it in the best possible way because Jér somehow always ends up being able to surprise Phil. Like getting Phil one of those multi-picture photo frames for his birthday this year and managing to pick out all of the best best photos of Phil’s family, of his friends from back home and ones of the team.

(Jér is in three of them. One of them is him and Phil smiling widely at the camera from the cup celebrations. Phil’s hat is just about falling off and Jér has his tongue sticking out in between his teeth and his arm around Phil’s waist. 

It’s just a nice photo of Phil with one of his friends, the one who gave him the photo frame. That’s all it seems to be and that’s all it needs to be.)

Phil pushes down the back of Jér's hand, moving it so Phil can kiss his knuckles, glancing up at Jér whose mouth is open in a small o. Phil does his best to keep up with Jér when it comes to stuff like this and he likes to think he does a good job.

Phil says, “I missed you too,” and those few words simply can’t convey all of Phil’s feelings about having missed Jer. About how he already misses Jér.

Phil knew he was going to miss Jér. He’s known since before he ever knew Jér returned his feelings. Last summer wasn’t actually that bad. They had only gone on one date before they had both gone back home for the summer and Phil had his rehab to focus on then. Jér's constant text updates on what he was doing and his encouragement and regular phone calls just made Phil’s chest hurt the way it normally did, when he wants nothing more than to have Jér next to him but couldn’t.

These last two weeks Phil had spent back home on recovery leave for his concussion though, that was a different story. The ache of wanting Jér had settled in once he had gotten on the plane back to Moncton and had never left. It only grew stronger, and Phil didn’t feel like he could breathe properly until he made it back to Rouyn and could tuck his face into Jér's neck and breath in the scent of his shower gel. 

Hockey happening and not having Jér beside him has always felt wrong. This ache was that feeling turned up to eleven. 

Phil doesn’t want to think about what he was going to do when the next season starts, when they’ll be on two separate teams and further than a simple drive’s away from each other, when he won’t be able to have Jér beside him in the private, quiet moments.

He has other things to focus in the meantime though so he doesn’t have to think about that. Things like getting back onto the ice as soon as he gets cleared so he can start making the most of the few games he has left here with his teammates. The few games he has left with Jér.

Until then, Phil can give Jér all of his focus, it’s the least that he deserves. 

Phil leaves more kisses on Jér's hand, down the side of his index finger and following the line of the bone to his wrist, turning it to let Phil’s mouth linger on the inside of Jér's wrist. If Phil closes his eyes, he’s sure he can hear and feel the beat of Jér's pulse, can feel it quicken when Phil kisses it, the sound of it lost under Jér's soft gasp of his name.

 

_ 04-28-17 _

It only takes Jér a few seconds to answer Phil’s call like he normally does. It still never fails to make Phil feel that pulse of happiness though.

“Hey,” Jér says, smile clear in his voice.

“Hey,” Phil says, shifting to get more settled into the hotel bed. He’s slept in worse but those ones did tend to have Jér in them which helped a lot. Phil hasn’t been sleeping too well since he arrived in Allentown.

“So the wifi’s still shit then,” Jér says, not phrased like a question. 

“Yeah,” Phil confirms. 

Jér makes an indescribable noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a grumble. “Remind me to sue them for emotional damages. Not getting to see you and your face should be a crime in every state,” he says, deadly serious, and there’s already a laugh escaping Phil’s chest, more so Jér can hear it then anything else. Phil does hear French everyday, from Danick and Sammy and Nic but there’s something about hearing Jér speak and the way his syllables flow into each other that’s like nothing else. Phil could listen to him all day, he already has in a few cases. 

“How are you feeling?” Jér asks once Phil’s laughter has ceased, sounding a little hopeful.

Phil sighs playing with the hem of his shorts. “Okay I guess, been better,” Phil says. He’s glad he doesn’t have to spell it out for Jér. That Jér just gets it. “What about you?”

“I’m the same,” Jér says simply and Phil feels that familiar twist in his stomach. Phil can’t stand watching many more games from the sidelines, he’s way past his limit but he thinks he might be able to if it meant Jér got to be out on the ice. Having both of them be injured especially when they can’t be together is unnecessarily cruel and unfair, and there’s nothing Phil can do about it but that doesn’t stop him wishing he could.

There’s a long moment where the only sound over the speaker is their breaths and Phil can almost imagine Jér in the bed next to him, wrapped around his back with his mouth against Phil’s ear mumbling sweet nothings.

“Jér,” Phil says, to get his attention and to get the pain inside his heart to settle. He’s mostly on his side now, letting the phone sit against his ear.

“Yeah,” Jér says and Phil closes his eyes and gathers up the words, tries to put every feeling he has for Jér into them.

“Happy birthday, Jer. I wish I was there with you so I could tell you in person. I love you so much.”

“Thank you, mon beau,” Jér says, sounding so soft that Phil can feel himself melting into the sheets. “I love you too.”

It’s still so much to hear Jér say that and to know he means it. Phil doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to it. He doesn’t ever really want to, he wants to be reminded of how lucky he is. 

“Have you worn your present yet?” Phil asks, turning over onto his other side and putting the phone against his other ear. 

“No, not yet. Trust me, you’d be the first to know,” Jér says, seemingly moving as well if the background noises are anything to go by.

“And why would that be?” Phil asks, smiling.

“Well,” Jér starts. “I’d make sure to send any pictures of me in it to you first.”

Phil’s trying to think of something to say because he has an idea of where this is going but Jér gets to it before he does. “And you never know, you might get to see ones no one else does. Ones that are just for you.”

“Exclusives just for me,” Phil says, voice edging towards quiet, wanting this to be for Jér's ears only.

“Just for you,” Jér repeats.

“Are you gonna tell me what they’d look like? Do you have enough time to?” Phil asks, mouth dry just from imagining it, Jér's body twisted underneath the loose material.

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Jér says too quickly, the words almost melding together. “You do too right?” 

“Yeah,” Phil replies, moving again, this time so he’s flat on his back, his hand starting to drift down his body already, the anticipation building up enough Phil can feel it coating his throat.

“Good, that’s good,” Jér says, sounding faraway. “There’s so much I want to tell you, and I want to hear what you have to say about it all of it. What sort of things you have to add and what you would do.”

Phil manages to stop his hand at his waistband, bites his lip. “I’m listening, Jér. I’m ready where you are,” Phil says.

Jér doesn’t waste any time in getting started, and Phil lies back and lets Jér paint pictures for him, ones that prove to be irresistible in every way just like Jér is.

 

_ 01-24-18 _

Jér kisses Phil the second they’re through the door. It shuts behind them as a result of Jér pushing Phil up against it, Phil drops his bags onto the floor beside and wraps his arms around Jér's waist as he sucks Jér's bottom lip between his and savours the small noise Jér makes.

It must have taken Phil the same amount of time it always does from him to drive back to the apartment he shares with Sammy and Nic after games, but tonight’s felt like it would never end, and if Jér hadn’t moved to put their mouths together first, then Phil would have, he couldn’t have waited another second to become reacquainted with Jér's sweetness.

Jér's mouth stops moving but he stays close enough that his lips brush Phil’s when he speaks. “I’m glad your teammates let you escape without a problem,” Jér whispers, tracing Phil’s jaw.

Phil mumbles his agreement, still a little surprised at how easy they let him go, Sammy and Nic especially. Sammy seemed like he wanted to fight for it and tell that Phil that no, not actually being twenty one yet was not a good enough reason to not go out for celebration drinks and birthday drinks, but Nic had cut in before Sammy could get started and told Phil he could do whatever he wanted, that they’d just drink for him instead before ushering Sammy away. 

Nic said it like he had an idea of why Phil wanted to go home. He probably does a little, he is the one who shares a wall with Phil’s bedroom. Phil trusts Nic though, and he hasn’t said anything directly yet so Phil is just going to have to keep on trusting him. 

“I’m glad you still have a Zach to bail you out and cover for you,” Phil whispers back, reaching up to tug at the few curls popping out from under Jér's beanie.

Jér smiles and steals Phil’s breath away. “That Zach says hi by the way,” Jér says before leaning in to kiss Phil again, his hands making quick work of undoing Phil’s jacket.

“Tell Zach I said hi,” Phil says breathlessly in between kisses. “And no offence to him though but I’d like to stop talking about Senyshen now.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Jér says. “I’d really like it if we stopped talking altogether.”

“Yeah,” Phil echoes. He forces himself to pull away though while his brain is still somewhat intact and hasn’t been completely turned into mush by Jer. “Let’s move to a bed first though.”

Jér pouts at him and Phil wishes it wasn’t making his resolve start to shake already . “Can’t that wait? I’m pretty good right here.” Jér has moved so he can nip at the hinge of Phil’s jaw before he can answer.

“Jér,” Phil says, trying to keep his voice steady as Jér starts to ruck up his shirt and skim over his abs. “Jér, please.”

Jér hms and Phil feels it more then he hears it. “Jér,” Phil tries again. “Please, that’s where I want you--I want you in my bed, please.”

Jér stops almost instantly and pulls back, his cheeks already starting to flush a gorgeous shade of red. He’s biting his bottom lip and Phil remembers how it was him doing that just a few minutes ago, thinks about how it’s going to be him doing it again very soon if Phil has anything to say about it.

“Because it’s your birthday and you asked so nicely, we can go do that,” Jér says, reaching down to take Phil’s hand. “Show me the way.” 

Phil smiles at Jér, squeezes his hand and gives him a peck before he regretfully lets go of Jér's hand. He has to try really hard not to laugh at Jér's look of betrayal at Phil and then his hand. “I don’t think Sammy and Nic would be too impressed if we left all of our shit at the door.”

Jér glances down at the floor, eyebrows raising up before settling into a frown at the stuff scattered around their feet. Phil does laugh then, a set of giggles that bubble up from deep inside his chest.

God, he missed Jér so much. He missed his face and his presence and his voice and everything about him. It’s been too long since Phil’s seen him, since Phil’s gotten to touch him. Everytime they tried to meet up, something got in the way. Most of the time it was an injury, Phil’s groin or Jér's concussion. 

A lot of the time it was both. 

That month where the both of them were out was something close to Phil’s personal hell. Not being help himself or help Jér, instead only being able to feel powerless as the days went on and on.

Phil tries to push it out of his mind and focus on things in the now, on how Jér is here with him, how’s Jér following after him into Phil’s bedroom and how after he puts down his bags in the corner, Jér goes over to the photo frame that he got Phil a year ago where it’s hung up on the wall and traces around the photo of the two of them.

Phil turns on the lamp on of the bedside tables, bathing the room in soft light, and goes up behind Jér so Phil can winds his arms around him and kiss Jér's neck, leave a trail of kisses up Jér's jaw until he can kiss the edge of Jér's smile.

Jér turns around at first just far enough to kiss Phil’s face but he manages to wriggle free enough to turn around completely and go back to where he left off licking into Phil’s mouth. He makes a start on taking Phil’s shirt off as well and Phil does the same for him, both of them ending up on the floor. 

“Didn’t you have a bed you wanted to show me?” Jér reminds Phil but makes no attempt to stop biting Phil’s lips or help him in anyway so Phil has to be the one to move walk them there, his hands settled on Jér's hips. Jér is very willing to follow Phil to the bed, maybe it’s more right to say he’s willing to follow Phil’s mouth but Phil doesn’t care because he has Jér on his side beside him now, their legs weaved together and Jér's hand cradling his nape. 

Jér's touch is so gentle, such a contrast with the way he was playing on the ice just a few hours ago, competitive, physical and hard like Jér has always been. They had circled this game when the schedules had came out. Jér had said that it probably counts as a combination birthday and Christmas present for the both of them. Phil had been very inclined to agree with him. 

At that moment, Jér shifts so his thigh is right in between Phil’s legs and presses it into where Phil is hard and leaking in his pants, and Phil whines into Jér's mouth.

“What do you want?" Jér asks, keeping his thigh where it is.

The little jolts of pleasure are making Phil’s thoughts go a little haywire. “Whatever you want to give me,” Phil says, half on a gasp. It’s the truth, the sappy truth but Phil has gotten used to the fact Jér is always going to reduce him to a sap.

Jér laughs, quiet and genuine. “I want to give you everything, mon beau,” Jér says, too honest, and Phil can’t even begin to process that right now. “But we have to start somewhere so what about you fucking me while I’m wearing your Phantom jersey, I’ve got stuff for it, don’t worry about that.”

Phil’s dick twitches at the thought of that. It would be so much, Jér wearing the number that Phil honestly still thinks of as his even if he doesn’t have it anymore in Providence. Imagining Jér wearing his own number except in Phantoms orange and with Phil’s name stamped across his shoulders, rippling and shifting would be so much but Phil doesn’t think that’s what he wants. 

“No,” Phil whispers, shaking his head. “I wanna see you and feel you.”

Jér doesn’t give him an response. Not one with words at least because his mouth is too busy being attached to Phil’s to do so, his hands wandering all over Phil’s shoulders, his chest and back, palms caressing Phil’s ass. Phil can only twist his fingers into the shorts curls at Jér's nape to keep himself together and not fall apart.

“Okay, Phil. Okay, I get it. How about--you could work me open and then I could ride you? Would you like that?" Jér asks, so eager.

Phil can’t even get out something resembling an actual answer, he goes to say too many thing things at once, _yes please, I’d love that, I want that so bad, I want you so bad, I love you,_ but Jér must get the message because he’s nodding and leaving okays against Phil’s lips before picking himself up and going to kneel next to his bag, taking the chance to take off his pants and boxers while he’s there.

Phil does the same, kicking them off his ankles and then off the bed. He reaches down and gives himself a few light strokes to take the edge off as he watches Jér's back move and shift, sucks his lip to keep in his whimpers.

Jér stands up, apparently victorious, goes over to put the condoms on the bedside table, keeping the lube in hand as he climbs onto the bed and over to Phil, Phil torn as to where to look, the hollows of Jér's collarbones or where his dick is flushed pink and leaking, the tip shiny. 

Jér settles on his back beside Phil, takes one of the pillows from under his head and slides it under his hips, and spreads his knees apart, the bottle of lube still in his hand. Phil turns and lifts himself so he can kiss Jér slowly, run his tongue across Jér's teeth and ask with a squeeze of Jér's wrist, “Can I please?” 

“Of course,” Jér says, smile pressing against Phil’s face. He loosens his grip on the lube and Phil takes it without any resistance. Phil has to taste Jér's smile again, the corner of his mouth, before he moves down the bed to move in between Jér's legs. 

Phil needs to take a few moments to take in how incredible Jér looks like this, spread out with his rumpled, messy curls and a flush that seems to be constantly growing across his skin and a pretty enough dick that Phil has to wrap around it for a moment, just to stroke it and hear the barely there moan Jér lets out.

“God, you’re so pretty Jér,” Phil says, punctuating it with a kiss to Jér's inner thigh that’s maybe also an attempt to hide the blush on his cheeks.

There’s a hand in his hair all of a sudden, carding through his curls. “Thank you Phil,” Jér says, sounding touched, like he’s somehow surprised. “You’re so sweet, so pretty and so sweet.” Phil’s heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his chest. 

Phil pours the lube on his fingers, rubs them together to spread it around and to warm it up a little. He pushes Jér's thighs further apart, mainly because he can and because it makes Jér's breath hitch.

He traces around Jér's rim, teasing, watching Jér watch him with dark eyes, his hands by his sides on the sheets. Jér nods and Phil takes that as permission to slip the tip of his finger in, Jér sighing as he does and relaxing around it as Phil starts to slide it in and out, keeping his focus on Jér and how his lashes are starting to flutter a little the whole time.

Jér is asking for another one before too long but Phil waits before giving it to him. He’s in no need to rush. Phil wants to take his time and catalogue every one of Jér's reactions, and he wants to make sure Jér is prepped well enough that it’s not going to cause him any discomfort. Phil likes knowing that Jér is as safe as he can be.

“Phil, c’mon, hurry up,” Jér demands, starting to push back onto Phil’s finger, so enthusiastic like Jér tends to be in bed, and Phil gives into him and adds the second one. It’s worth it purely for the way Jér's face screws up before he starts fucking himself on them again, biting his lip as he does, hands starting to twist in the sheets.

Phil tries to shift them in sync with Jér's movements because God does he love Jér like this, shameless, wanton, edging closer to desperate. Phil moves his fingers in a scissor motion, strokes the inside of Jér's thighs with his free hand and tries his best to hit that spot.

It takes him quite a few tries, he’s out of practise somewhat from the months they’ve been apart, but when he finally does, it proves to be better than even his memory had it, seeing Jér's whole body rise off the bed and hearing the loud moan that falls out of his mouth. Phil does it again and has to reach down to feel himself as Jér's back arches. 

Admittedly, Phil gets distracted making Jér tremble and shake and call out his name. He spends so long on that it means by the time Phil puts his third finger in, Jér only lasts about a minute before he’s telling Phil, all breathless, “Phil, stop, stop. I’m ready, you’ve opened me up good enough, I swear. Stop and let me ride you for the love of christ,” and Phil doesn’t know how to say no to that, doesn’t think it’s possible at all so he pulls his fingers out and looks at Jér's hole from where it’s on display, so red as it clenches around nothing. 

Then, faster than Phil can blink, he’s on his back again, this time with his hands pinned either side of his head and Jér on top kissing the life out of him and grinding back onto Phil’s dick, causing Phil to let out helpless whimpers, suddenly aware of how hard he is and how his dick is aching for attention. 

Jér sits up and lets go of Phil’s hands, moves off Phil so he can reach over for the condom on the table. He looks back over to Phil and runs his hand up one of Phil’s arms, a glint in his eye. Phil only realises now he hasn’t moved them from where Jér had them pinned.

“Phil, do you think you could keep your hands there for me, please? They look so good like that, you look so good like that,” Jér says and Phil’s insides are already tying themselves in knots at the thought of being good for Jér, of doing something like this for him. Phil wants to be touching Jér always but he wants to be good for Jér even more. 

Jér thanks him with a kiss into his hairline after Phil nods his agreement. Phil leans into it and Jér's touch as much as he can.

Phil stares at Jér through half-lidded eyes as he tears the packet open with his teeth and rolls it onto Phil’s dick, Phil letting out a whine as Jér makes sure it’s on properly and lathers it in a generous amount of lube.

Jér gives Phil a kiss on the cheek once he’s done getting Phil prepared. “You ready?” Jér asks, his eyes the clearest they’ve been since they got into bed, his pupils still blown wide.

Phil says, “Yeah, I am.” This is already so much. Phil really is so lucky.

Surprisingly graceful, Jér straddles Phil and reaches back to hold the base of Phil’s dick as he sits up on his knees. 

Jér is biting his bottom lip as he lowers himself down though it doesn’t do much to muffle the noise he makes when Phil’s head pops inside. It gets lost under Phil’s long, low groan anyway as Jér continues to slide down until he’s fully sat in Phil’s lap. Phil has to resist the urge to thrust up into the Jér's too tempting warmth, Jér so tight around him as he shifts from side-to-side, taking his sweet time getting used to them being together like this again. It’s good for Phil, too, considering how he feels the slightest shift would be enough to send him over the edge right now.

After what feels like a real long while, Jér drags his teeth across his bottom lip and sits up, spine straight and shoulders pulled back, pushing back onto Phil’s dick before he lifts himself up and slides back down slowly. He lets out a strangled noise when Phil bottoms out this time.

Jér goes to do it once more, holding himself for a few seconds with just Phil’s head inside him and clenching around Phil when he’s back down again, enough to make Phil whimper out Jér's name. Jér carries on like that, almost painfully slow but such a gorgeous sight all the same, his thighs flexing, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

“Fuck, Phil, fuck,” Jér says under his breath as he finally starts to pick up some speed, his hands running over Phil’s torso as he fucks himself unabashedly on Phil’s dick, digging his nails into Phil’s sides hard enough to leave half moons and flicking a thumb across Phil’s nipple, enough to make him squirm and whine. 

“Jér,” Phil manages, despite all the air having escaped his lungs. He doesn’t think he could find the words at anytime to describe how incredible Jér is like this. He definitely can’t now, he can only let himself enjoy the ride. 

Jér stops bouncing in Phil’s lap and starts to rock his hips instead, the very definition of sinful. His hands slide up further to where Phil’s chain is sitting and Jér strokes across it and Phil’s collarbones, hooks his thumbs in the chain as Jér pants and twists his hips, not letting up for a second. Phil has his hands gripping the back of his skull, trying to stop himself from reaching out to touch Jér's flushed skin, to trace across his stomach down to his leaking dick or to anchor himself on Jér's hips or his thighs. 

“You feel so good, Phil,” Jér says, sweat starting to pool in his collarbones. Phil wants to taste it, wants to lick every inch of him. “You feel so fucking good, you’re being so good for me, love you.”

Jér leans down so he can wrap his hands around Phil’s trembling biceps, shaking from the tension, and so he can kiss Phil, seemingly aiming for his mouth but ending up getting mostly Phil’s chin instead. Phil shifts to meet Jér and they connect in some version of a kiss, noses bumping against each other as they meet at an odd angle and slipping noises into each other's mouths.

Jér's dick is leaving wet smears across Phil’s stomach from where it’s trapped between their bodies, and he’s moved to try and suck a hickey just below Phil’s jawline, but Jér keeps on interrupting his own bites with moans as Phil does his best to fuck up into him, simply unable to resist the temptation anymore, to make a good job of it.

“Phil,” Jér says, though it sounds more like a gasp. “Phil, please, your hands, just-- just touch me, fuck me, do something, please.” 

Phil can’t say no to Jér under normal circumstances, he’s always powerless when faced with Jér's lashes and his curls and his smile, and these definitely aren’t normal circumstances, Jér is pressed all the way along the top of him, their skin touching everywhere, intertwined, and he’s moving with Phil, moaning for him.

Phil would do anything Jér asked of him, anything to make him happy, and this is no exception. 

He moves his arms from under Jér's grip, runs his hands all the way down Jér's back until they’re on Jér's ass, so Phil can pull his cheeks apart and feel where Jér is stretched and twitching around him as he fucks his hips up carefully, feeling his dick slide back inside, and watching the pleasure on Jér's face as he lets out little uhs.

Phil means to stay at that slow pace. Means to, but Jér starts to meet him with downward movements and lifts his head to sloppily kiss Phil across his mouth and face, and any thoughts that aren’t Jér, that aren’t making Jér spill more sobs of Phil’s name down his throat, are gone in favour of Phil planting his feet for leverage and fucking up into Jér, hard and fast.

Jér's moaning constantly with every thrust now, right into Phil’s ear over the sounds of slapping skin and the mattress squeaking. Phil’s glad there’s no reason for Jér to bite back any of his noises and that Phil gets to have him like this, loud and wanton and easy for Phil to whisper I love yous to. Having to put his fingers in Jér's mouth to keep Jér quiet, having Jér bite down and leave marks and suck on them greedily is excellent too in its own way, but Phil does like this better but that might be because it’s the one that’s happening now. 

Distantly, Phil registers his orgasm nearing ever closer, the tension in his gut and balls winding, twisting around, getting closer to snapping. His thrusts are losing any real semblance of rhythm but Jér must be close too, his whole body writhing as he tries to grind against Phil’s stomach and push back onto his dick at the same time, noises tearing themselves out of his throat despite him biting down into the meat of Phil’s shoulder. That’s definitely going to leave a mark, not unlike the ones of Phil’s fingertips on Jér's ass.

“Jér, are you-- can I?” Phil gets out, fumbling between them to feel up Jér's head, Jér near on shouting when he does.

“Yes-- fuck Phil, yes,” Jér says and Phil kisses him when he moves his hand deliberately this time so he can swallow Jér's sob for himself.

There’s not really enough room between them for Phil to properly move his hand and the angle itself is awkward but Jér has taken over for them, is doing his best to move into the circle of Phil’s hand and Phil is left trying to keep up again. 

“Love you, Phil, love you so much,” Jér says, lips brushing against Phil’s and clenching around Phil at the same time, and that’s all it takes for Phil to come and for his orgasm to overtake him, the surging wave of pleasure flowing as Phil fucks into Jér without restraint, making him moan brokeningly every time he bottoms out.

Phil somehow manages to clumsily thumb Jér's slit in time with one of his thrusts and Jér lets out a wail that might have been Phil’s name once, his come splashing hotly across Phil’s stomach, Jér shaking as he rides it out, hole spasming around Phil’s dick, making Phil bite his lip from the too much shocks.

All the tension has seeped out of Phil’s body. He feels like he’s floating, like the only thing keeping him on the ground, in more ways than one, is Jér lying on top of him trying to catch his breath, seemingly unconcerned about the pile of come he’s lying in.

Phil pulls out of Jér eventually and starts to pet Jér's mess of curls to soothe him after the whimper Jér let out. Jér got them cut recently so they’re shorter on the sides but they’re still lovely and soft to the touch. Jér sighs into his neck before he lifts his head up, a sleepy smile on his face

“Well, I had fun,” Jér says, voice a little hoarse and Phil’s dick twitches at hearing it and knowing why it's like that. “Did you?”

Phil smiles back. “I had a lot of fun.”

Jér keeps on smiling and starts to trace shapes into Phil’s skin. “That’s good, I’d have hated it if you didn’t like your present.”

Phil sticks out his lower lip and tries to look put out. “That’s all you got me, huh, lube and condoms?”

Jér smirks and kisses Phil gently until Phil helplessly starts to smile. “You would have been happy with it if that was your only present, especially because your boyfriend was included in the deal. ” And honestly that’s the truth but Phil isn’t going to admit that. 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow what your present is, okay?” Jér promises and Phil doesn’t really care too much about it now, nothing’s going to beat having Jér with him.

“Okay,” Phil says softly, taken aback by the light in Jér's eyes. “Morning sex doesn’t count by the way, and neither does shower sex.”

“I know,” Jér says, smirking. “They’re just more bonuses for you because that’s the kind of man I am, generous and giving.”

Phil groans, shaking his head at Jer.

“Speaking of shower sex,” Jér carries on, unrepentant. “Are you going to be a good host and accompany me to the shower? Please, Phil?”

Jér looks at Phil through his lashes, makes them and Phil’s heart flutter.

Phil says, “Yes, of course, mon beau,” and steals a few kisses before they get up out of the bed. 

They share a lot between now and when they make it back into Phil’s bed, climbing under the sheets and getting comfortable with each other, basking in it. 

Phil falls asleep that night with his head against Jér's chest, Jér rubbing strokes down Phil’s back, listening to the steady beat of Jér's heart beneath him and his own heart soon falling into time.

 

_ 01-25-18 _

There are only a few inches of light creeping into Phil’s room when he wakes up but it’s enough to make out Jér and his smile above him as Phil blinks awake. Jér's really there, warm beside Phil. His hand is gentle as it cradles Phil’s face and rubs his cheekbone.

“Happy birthday, Phil,” Jér says, as soft and as enveloping as the morning light.

In the moment before Jér's mouth meets Phil’s, Phil thinks about all the birthdays they’ve still got left to come and how he wants to spend all of them with Jér from now until forever, the two of them growing old together, their hearts still beating perfectly in time.

**Author's Note:**

> people mentioned in this fic: francis perron, zachary lauzon, danick martel, samuel morin, nicolas aube-kubel and zachary senyshen
> 
> thank you for reading this i hope you liked it <3
> 
> the timeline in this all correct which unfortunately includes all the injuries as well ;_; i will come back and include the important links when i have time. 
> 
> i'm on twitter @ attababehisch where i spend my time trying to fill my crying about jeremy lauzon quota so come chill, it's fun.


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